


Trash

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: "I think," Gerard started, "that you should sit with me." He patted the bed beside him- two soft thumps- and Mikey couldn't help turning around. He stood there, no longer able to hear the rain, and forced himself to look up from the floor. He couldn't quite meet his brother's eyes.
Relationships: Gerard Way/Mikey Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Trash

**Author's Note:**

> Clearing out the backlog.

Soft music was creeping up the basement stairs and into the kitchen. In his socks and boxers, blinking hazily into the refrigerator light, Mikey shook his head. He pulled the cardboard box of orange juice from the top shelf and let the door swing shut, plunging the room into the dark again. Sleepily, he made his way to the cupboard, yawning into the crook of his elbow. As he was stretching up for a glass, a crash came from downstairs. The box of juice fell from his hand, orange spilling across the floor.

Heart pounding in his chest, Mikey crept across the kitchen to peer blindly into the depths of the basement. Cautiously, he began to feel his way down the old, wooden steps, ears straining to hear the distinctive sounds of axe murders. He closed his eyes before he made it to the bottom landing. Bravely, he turned the corner and flipped on the light.

When he opened his eyes, he realized there were no murderers ready to slash them to pieces. Just Gerard, slightly drunk, giggling madly as he tried, and failed, to lift himself from the floor. The window above him was open, letting in a cool autumn breeze. The screen that fit it lay flat near the stairs where it had been tossed. Torn between sighing in relief and yelling in anger, Mikey stormed to where his brother lay and kicked him squarely in the ribs.

“Mi-key,” Gerard whined. He held his arms up like a child. His hair was messy around his face, lips red, cheeks and nose cherry pink. Mikey shook his head and scowled. “Help me up.”

Reluctantly, Mikey grabbed Gerard’s outstretched hands. They were damp. He yanked, unsurprised when Gerard resisted. Once more, bracing himself on the cold stone floor, he pulled. Gerard sluggishly rose from the ground. Together, they shuffled to the bed. Mikey shrugged his brother off like a coat, ignoring the god awful sound the old mattress made.

“You said you weren’t going to do this anymore, Gee,” Mikey said softly as he knelt down to undo the laces of his brother's boots. They dropped with two soft thuds on the old shag rug under the bed. When Mikey started to move around the bed, Gerard sat up.

"I'm not that drunk," Gerard answered. He pressed a fingertip to his nose, going cross-eyed for a moment, and laughed.

"Drunk enough," Mikey muttered. He pulled Gerard's coat off roughly, dropping it to the floor. It was wet. Mikey wondered for a moment if it was still raining outside. He startled when a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him down onto the mattress that had once been their mother's.

"Mikey," Gerard singsonged. He wrapped an arm around Mikey's shoulders. Even though he was damp, Mikey leaned into him. "I swear to you I am only tipsy. Scouts honor." Gerard held up four fingers on his free hand, eyebrows raised.

"Gee, you dropped out of the scouts before the first meeting." Mikey shook his head, subdued. Gerard laughed.

"You love me, brother mine," he said, ruffling Mikey's hair. Mikey scrunched his nose and shrugged. If he listened closely, he could hear the patter of rain falling over the music still playing.

"Whatever," he mumbled. He stood, ignoring the indignant sound his brother made, and began to climb the stairs. Distantly he heard Gerard's yelled farewell but left it unanswered.

It took ten minutes to clean up the spilled orange juice on the kitchen floor. Most of it had dried to a horrible sticky sort of mess on the tile and, for fear of his mother's vengeance, Mikey had had to scrub at it with the sponge. Tired again, Mikey flipped the switch to the light. Just as he was crossing into the carpeted living room, another solid crash came from the basement. Mikey paused, considering leaving Gerard at the mercy of the serial killers, and another, louder, bang came. Sighing, he ran to the basement again.

Three large, plastic tubs sat on their sides in the middle of the floor, spilling their innards out in heaps. Gerard, unfazed by the mess, sat at the end of his bed. He had shed his clothes, naked but for a pair of boxers Mikey recognized as his own, and was staring intensely at a magazine.

"Jesus, Gee, that's dirty as hell," Mikey said in disgust when he realized what it was. He rolled his eyes and turned away. Gerard laughed, breathy.

"It's natural," he said. "Have you done it, Mikey?" Mikey stiffened. He heard the sound of pages turning, then, silence. "Well?"

"I'm sixteen, Gee," Mikey said softly, already tired of the game. "What do you think?"

"I think," Gerard started, "that you should sit with me." He patted the bed beside him- two soft thumps- and Mikey couldn't help turning around. He stood there, no longer able to hear the rain, and forced himself to look up from the floor. He couldn't quite meet his brother's eyes.

"Gee-"

"Come here, Michael," Gerard said firmly. Mikey hesitantly sat next to him. He could smell the soft lavender of the lotion he'd bought for Gerard last year. A hand landed on his shoulder, hot and a little slick. Gerard's hair tickled against Mikey's collarbone, itchy. With his free hand, Gerard grabbed the magazine he'd been looking at earlier and sat it in the dip between their touching thighs.

There was a thin, blonde man laying across the pages. His nails were painted black, his face young. His eyes were closed against his pink cheeks, his red lips open. Another man, smaller, with thick black hair knelt next to him. His hand was wrapped around the base of the blonde's cock, his tongue flattened against its tip. He stared into the camera, eyes narrowed.

Mikey blushed, unable to look away. He could feel Gerard's eyes on him. The hand on his shoulder slid down his arm, making goosebumps rise. Mikey's stomach tightened, an ache beginning in his groin. Gerard turned the page.

The same men from before were spread across the glossy page. The blonde knelt on an orange rug, his chest pressed to the ground. The other man's hand was in his hair, puling his head back. He was pressed deep inside the blonde, back arched, head thrown back. Mikey swallowed.

Gerard's hand slid from wrist to hip, fingers pressing gently into the soft dip there. Mikey closed his eyes. He heard the page turn again, but he kept his eyes closed. Slowly, confidently, Gerard began to rub the edge of his hand against Mikey's erection through his boxers. Mikey jerked when Gerard's hand moved again to cup him gently.

"Gee-"

"Shh, little brother," Gerard murmured into his ear. The magazine fell to the floor as Gerard shifted. Mikey kept his eyes closed tight. He let Gerard guide his own hand over. Let Gerard slip his fingers in through the slit of boxers that were too tight around the middle. Let Gerard coax him into stroking with his dry hand. He was rewarded with firm strokes that matched his own. Gerard's hand was hot, still slicked with the lotion he'd been using on himself.

Their soft breaths filled the room. Mikey was struggling to match the rhythm Gerard had set, trying desperately to keep himself from thrusting up. Flashes of the two men in the magazine were flickering behind his eyelids, and he knew that, if he wanted it, it could turn into him and Gee. Could be Gerard on his knees, mouth wrapped around him. Could be him on his knees, Gerard fucking him.

Mikey whimpered when he came. His arm was sore, bent at an awkward angle. Gerard twined their fingers together, dragging Mikey's hand along with his own as he finished himself off. It hurt. Mikey's fingers were being pinched with the tightness of his brother's grip. He cried out softly when Gerard suddenly bit his shoulder, breaking the skin. Hot, sticky cum exploded onto his wrist.

Mikey shoved himself off the bed, violently wiping his hand on his boxers. Gerard was looking up at him, smiling, eyes a little dazed. Sick rose in his throat. He took a deep breath to calm it, fists clenched.

"How many times are you going to do this?" Mikey asked. He could feel his lip beginning to quaver. He clenched his teeth, lifting his chin defiantly. When Gerard gave no answer, Mikey turned and began up the steps. Suddenly, he changed his mind and lunged toward his brother, punching him squarely across the jaw. "I'm not a fucking toy!"

He couldn't stop. Tears were crawling down his hot cheeks as he pounded his fists into Gerard's chest and face, images of a dozen nights just like this one had been in the forefront of his mind. Of Gerard coming home drunk, of Gerard kissing him, and touching him, and promising him the world. Of Gerard failing. Always failing. Mikey shook him by the shoulders, nails digging in.

"I hate you! I fucking hate you!" He shoved away again, falling onto his knees. He scrambled to his feet, vision dancing in and out, and ran.


End file.
